


Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint

by ninaunn



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: Asari Characters, Character Study, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Mass Effect 1, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 04:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18045656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninaunn/pseuds/ninaunn
Summary: The pressure at her hand sharpened, returning her to Benezia’s determined scowl. Behind her, the grey and green of the jungle shimmered with a veil of falling rain.





	Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



\--

'...Like me who have no love which this wild rain  
Has not dissolved except the love of death,  
If love it be towards what is perfect and  
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.'

Rain, by Edward Thomas

\--

“Least the rain should hide us well,” she said, voice soft and rough against the silence between them. 

Condensation clung heavy to Aethyta’s skin, protected as they were in what was more a crack then a cave. It ran slick down the lichen thick walls, dappled pink and grey, and dropped off the lush foliage that screened them. Coated the cracked breather still strapped to her face. She scraped the back of her hand over her forehead, swiping away the beads of liquid that clung beneath her brows and continuing the motion to it over her lapis blue crest.

Her companion gave no sign of having heard her, face obscured by her own breathing mask and still turned to where the heavy curtain of rain obscured the jungle outside.

Aethyta sighed, pressed her palms to the dirt under her arse to ease into a more comfortable reclining position. It did not help; a jagged flare of pain shot through her abdomen. Her face compressed into a scowl at the hurt. It was stupidity and recklessness that had earned it, and Aethyta did not want to see either of those accusations in Diplomat T’Soni’s face again.

Bad enough the first time, once the blood had settled and bullets stopped flying.

“How did you know?”

Blinking up, Aethyta stared dumbly at the question and it’s stiff delivery. 

“How did you know?” Benezia asked again, sliding her dusk-rung eyes around in calculating assessment. “That Governor Etsina intended to eliminate me?” 

Aethyta snorted, hating how the sound amplified in her breathing mask.

“You have to try really hard to lose that much grain to root-rot on a planet like this.” She leant her head back against the damp rock wall and tried to slow her panting to long, even breaths. 

She shouldn’t. Niacal’s atmosphere had an unusually high concentration of oxygen. Prolonged exposure would lead to oxygen toxicity, and Aethyta did not know how long they would be hiding in this jungle for as their pursuers raced against her commandos to find them. But what analgesic was contained in the medi-patch at her side was not cutting it, and Aethyta was left with old fashioned pain management techniques.

Vaguely, she wondered if her mother had ever found herself in such dire straits.

Not that the dangers of their current predicament seemed to touch the mid-ranking diplomat whose life she’d saved a scant hour ago.

“Are you telling me,” Benezia’s word were clipped short like a bird’s wing, “that you uncovered an assassination attempt from a poor crop yield?” 

“Your words, not mine,” Aethyta grunted. It was more complicated than that, but she wasn’t currently feeling particularly generous towards her charge. 

Outside, the long and lonely hoot of a local avian broke through the steady drum of monsoon rain. A call gone unanswered.

Niacal, in all, was not a terrible planet, but it was not the one Aethyta particularly wanted to die on. Especially in the company of a young, haughty matron with far more grace then should be allowed. 

She snuck a sly glance at the regal profile of her companion, skin shimmering azure with the air’s thick moisture. Her ceremonial robe was ruffled and slightly torn, and yet, Benezia appeared calm and composed and unconcerned by the afternoon’s events.

No, she seemed more interested in trying to piece together the puzzle that Aethyta did not have the energy to answer.

“Alright then,” though Benezia’s tone did not indicate compromise. With a delicate hand, she artlessly rearranged the yellow scarf draped stylishly over one shoulder. “Inform me how you made the connection.”

Aethyta did groan loudly at the demand.

“There are some things,” She ground her teeth, trying not to let her gaze drop to her stomach, “a pretty, little priestess like you shouldn’t worry about.”

A muscle twitched in Benezia’s cheek. Aethyta pocketed what that small reflex implied away in her mind for later.

“I’m not a priestess.” Her voice became guarded, almost cold.

Aethyta could not help but chuckle at that absurdity, even as it injured herself to do so.

“You’re an acolyte,” she pointed out, pressing a hand to the indigo stain on her medi-patch, “and it’s no secret the Matriarch’s are eyeing you off for the Atanma already.”

“Commando Aethyta, that is a very bold assumption.” Yet a telling rigidity had slipped into the young matron’s expression. If the asari at large had not yet speculated at the rapid rise in rank and favour of one pretty and capable acolyte and her pretty and distinguished lineage, then Benezia T’Soni herself, at least, had.

Refraining from responding, Aethyta exhaled her amusement sharply through her nose.

Benezia drew back in defensively, the long lines of her countenance pulling back in contemplation. It was reminiscent of the first time Aethyta had seen her, shadowing an esteemed Matriarch at an annual One Future Summit in Thessia’s capital city. Taken aback by an unexpected angle proposed by the opposition.

Aethyta did not wish to contemplate why realising that she was the unexpected angle provoked such a thrill from scalp to spine.

“You have more whisper lines than you let on,” Benezia stated, a small smile gracing her generous mouth at last.

“Finally catching up, are you?” Aethyta let a smug grin crawl over her face. She had many failings; too brash, too direct and too rough for most asari. She was, however, very good at her job.

The victory was short-lived. Another wave of pain, more potent than the last, ebbed and flowed over Aethyta’s abdomen. Strong enough to make her squirm and suck her teeth. Getting stuck with a Huntress’s blade was not one of her brightest ideas. It was hard not to kick her feet out and wail.

A cool hand touched her brow, and Aethyta started to see Benezia bearing down, a concerned expression hovering at the edges of her composure.

“You look terrible,” T’soni said.

“Thanks,” croaked Aethyta.

“You should really take my breather,” the diplomat continued. “You’re in much more need of a fully functioning one than I.”

That set a frown to Aethyta’s brow. They’d had this conversation when they’d first hunkered down in this shrouded crevice to wait out their pursuers.

“No,” she insisted. “I’m here to guard you, remember? Beside, our evac team will be here before too long.”

Benezia pursed her lips into a thin line at that statement, and Aethyta took the time to consider how strange it was to see her face so close, as obscured as it was by her pristine breathing-mask. Hovering over like vision, Aethyta could see the flecks of teal that highlighted the smooth pebbling of her skin, the smudged mess of her makeup.

What a day.

Her aunt had told Aethyta that is was foolish to put herself in the path of an acolyte, much less a T’Soni. 

Asari liked to pretend that they held little prejudice, to themselves as well as towards the Council races, but it wasn’t particularly true. Her mother might have been a war hero, but Aethyta had been raised in the parts of Illium not quite touched by it’s star. Long enough to learn that there were asari matriarchs and there were asari Matriarchs.

After her parents had lovingly murdered each other, after Aethyta had watched the holo-vid they had sent in farewell a thousand times, she had received her mother’s posthumous accolades. The empty list that Thessia had deemed to be her mother’s achievements. No mention made of her krogan father, or the small community they had nurtured in the bowels of Nos Astra that welcomed them. Asari desired krogan genetic inheritance, so long as the krogan did not stick around.

She had wept and cursed and committed herself to numb abandon of the grief-stricken.

And yet, Aethyta had heard Benezia T’Soni speak one that first day. A young maiden arguing for greater meaningful maiden involvement and representation in the online democratic forums that the asari were so proud of. The scion of the T’Soni had been passionate, fearless and charismatic.

Aethyta had been nothing more than a hired bodyguard for another speaker at the One Future Summit, living from one pay check to the next, but she’d listened. Had realised that she wanted to be more than a mercenary maiden, concerned by little beyond her own self-indulgent vanity. 

Had wanted the asari to be more, and so had sought to grow beyond Thessia’s limited expectations of her krogan father and insignificant mother. 

Azure fingers snapped in front of her nose, and Aethyta blinked at Benezia’s piercing glare.

“Try not to drift off when I’m talking to you,” she scolded. “It’s very impolite.”

When the opportunity had come, two-hundred years later, to run the security detail for one Diplomat T’Soni, Aethyta had seized it.

“Well, I’ll try,” Aethyta groused, but it was a laboured effort, “but there’s not a lot else one can do when bleeding out.”

The expected barbed rejoinder did not come. Instead, Aethyta felt her hand being gently moved aside to open the stained medi-patch to scrutiny.

“Nonsense,” Benezia responded, though the cadence of her voice dipped enough to indicate doubt. “The wound is not even bleeding anymore.”

“That you can see,” Aethyta said snidely, wincing as she tried sitting up to better view her stomach. The Huntress’s blade had slid straight through her new Armax Arsenal armour. It was galling; she’d paid through the teeth for that armour.

Sure hands softly pushed her shoulders, and Aethyta let herself return to reclining. The patter of rain against palm fronds had softened, but not faded entirely. Again, she felt the brush of a hand over her scalp, thumbing away at the gathered droplets. 

“You said your team was not long in coming?”

“Well that depends if that air-head Vaalsa is paying attention or not.” Aethyta blinked away the concern in her companion’s voice. Her breaths were coming rough and uneven. Tried to concentrate on the pink lichen clinging to the ceiling and not the restrictive and broken breather strapped to her damn face.

She wondered what her mother would have said to see her daughter dying alone in a cave. Would her father be disappointed it was not in the heat of battle? Would her bitter, estranged aunt grieve or say it was about what she’d expected?

So long ago, Aethyta had shaken off the apathy of her parent’s deaths and tried to claw herself into something worth noting. Into an asari worth remembering. Not another feckless dancer or fool-hardy merc. Stronger than the old wounds of her parents and braver than the resignation of her aunt. 

There was an increase of pressure on her hand, and belatedly Aethyta realised that Benezia still held it, and was now squeezing tightly in an effort to get her attention.

“Hnn?”

“I detest having to repeat myself,” chided Benezia, and Aethyta wondered at that. Wondered how often her passion and determination been dismissed or ignored because of her youth. What had given a daughter of wealth and privilege the drive to have her voice heard before rank and experience gave it weight?

Everything felt so heavy, the air thick and muggy, pulling Aethyta further away from the present like a rip-tide.

The pressure at her hand sharpened, returning her to Benezia’s determined scowl. Behind her, the grey and green of the jungle shimmered with a veil of falling rain.

“So, a mid-ranking diplomat journeys to an agribusiness colony suffering continual crop failure on behalf of one their patrons, to convince the local governor to set a bio-task force, which will be provided significant funding.” The asari leaned closer, drawing her companion in with the velvet dip in her voice. “Said governor is the image of civility and acquiescence, and yet you somehow uncover that she plots to kill me?”

Aethyta swallowed at the intensity of Benezia’s attention. Countered it by shrugging carelessly with one shoulder.

“I’m a matron of many talents.” But her words felt weak and weary. Was the pounding at her temples the drumming of the rain or her blood?

Benezia sniffed imperiously.

“I’m not surprised she tried to kill me,” she clarified, sitting back on her heels, even as her gaze remained on Aethyta. “I’m shocked that it was so overt. Surely poisoning would have been more discreet?”

A damp chuckle erupted unexpectedly from Aethyta’s throat, and in it she found the motivation return the tight grip Benezia had trapped her fingers in. This prodding, she knew, was to keep her here. To guard her from drifting through the Nekyia Corridor and into her next life. 

It was a consideration Aethyta had not thought to receive from an asari of such station and renown as Diplomat T’Soni. Then again, was she not the one who had inspired her to defy Thessia and the galaxy beyond?

She felt her lips curl into a grin. Real, and restrained only by pain.

“Shouldn’t have prodded her about that turian lover she was trying so desperately to hide,” Aethyta goaded.

Outside the rain drizzled down, heavy and obscure. A corrupt governor and her cronies sought their deaths as her commandos sought to save them. 

And Benezia laughed, deep and throatily, and if Aethyta could capture the sound and wear it like a charm, she would have. 

\--

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Lady_Katana4544 for this wonderful prompt as a part of the Spectre Requisitions 2019 fic swap. This was a very enjoyable fic to write.
> 
> This is very much a pre-game fic showcasing very young Aethyta and Benezia. I tried to keep it as canon-compliant as I could, while doing a little speculating what asari culture would have looked like more than a few hundred years in the past. There were probably a few false starts and flings before it began, and I wanted to write something about what actually drew them together. I imagine that it took a very long time for Aethyta and Benezia to begin the relationship that would eventually produce Liara. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you like it!


End file.
